


On My Side

by NotIshimaru



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Alliances, Broken Families, Historical References, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Witty protagonist, yes 1760 was a time for edmund and patrick, yes edmunds family is broken, yes james is hiding a secret relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 07:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30119514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotIshimaru/pseuds/NotIshimaru
Summary: Patrick Henry is called to the Virginia Ratifying Convention of 1788, after months of begrudging work and feelings toward the Constitution.The only thing on his mind is: How can I get the Judge Pendleton on my side?
Relationships: Patrick Henry (1736-1799)/Edmund Pendleton (1721-1803)





	On My Side

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot how I wrote most of this! I might be editing tags/the fanfic after posting to adjust it. :)

Pleasant Grove: June 1st 1788

“Papa! Papa!”

Ngh..

“Father! Wake up!”

Ugh.. no..

“Patrick, up with you!”

I felt a sharp tug at my ear, pulling me up and out of my slumber. Despite being woken up, my eyes were heavy, and the only thought present was how much I wanted to drift back asleep. As I felt my muscles relax and shift back into the bed, I was jumped on.

“Papa! Mama’s been trying to wake you up for ten minutes!” My little girl, Kitty, blundered and babbled as she sat on my abdomen. I laughed, looking up and over to my nine-months pregnant wife; Dorothea.

“Is she speaking truthfully? Have you been at this for ten /whole/ minutes?” I drawled, sending a curious glance over to my fair woman. She sighed and nodded down at me. Her dark eyes mysteriously lingered behind me, which caused me to turn my head.

“Father!” Patrick Jr., five, stood beside my bed. As the seven year-old continued to prod at me, U now had another set of hands on my shirt’s sleeve. Little Paddy tugged so hard that I felt like he was going to tear my cuffs off.

Most mornings would play out this way. This /is/ what you get when you have eleven children and another on the way. I attempted to sit upright, but Kitty’s little hands grabbed onto my face and held fast at my cheeks.

“Someone’s awfully playful.” Dorothea mumbled, a hand on my back assisting me upright. I grunted tiredly and picked up Kitty, slinging her on my shoulder. Once Patrick Jr. noticed this, he jumped up on the bed to get picked up as well.

With a kid on either shoulder, I stood up. Today, I wouldn’t be able to meander around too much. I had hoped Dorothea told the kids to lay off, but alas, she hadn’t done anything of the sort.

I walked out of the bedroom, into the hallway of our fairly-new home. It was fresh and new when I bought this land. It was odd being out of my home county, but my influence was needed here.

I set both of my little demons down on the floor, patting their heads. I gestured for them to run off, as I turned around and returned to my wife.

“Oh, my dearest.” I closed the door behind myself, locking it by wiggling my finger awkwardly into the middle of the knob. Dorothea stood up, gathering a fresh frock, waistcoat, and shirt in her arms for me.

“No need to complain, Patrick. I know you need to save your breath for that convention of yours.” Dorothea used one hand to unbutton my shirt lazily, as I rolled my shoulders back to shrug off the fabric. She handed me my fresh clothes for the day, then gesturing behind herself.

“A week’s worth of clothing is packed in that trunk, I’ll have it in your carriage after breakfast.” A smile surfaced to her pale face, as she sat back down patiently. A hand laid rest on her stomach, rubbing there idly.

I continued to dress as she made herself comfortable again. This convention was going to last more than a week, if my suspicions were correct. I couldn’t tell her that, though. If I told her it would last months, like the Constitutional Convention, then she’d be terribly hopeless.

I suppressed the guilt of hiding that sad truth. As I buttoned up my waistcoat and linked my cuffs with proper gold buttons, I spoke.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell Madison, Randolph, and Pendleton to all shove it. Get in, get out. I don’t wish to stay for long.” I assured, sitting down beside Dorothea. My coat laid on my thighs. Even though I love overdressing, I don’t think I’ll be able to wear it today.

The air was so damn humid. I was to be in a carriage for seven hours. No way in God’s good name was I going to subject myself to a painful, sweaty ride with some of my strongest political enemies. That sounds like Hell. I’d be coatless today.

I gently placed my red coat on Dorothea’s shoulders, she gasped softly, and I pressed a finger to her lips. I buttoned the top few buttons, then hooked the small, darker overcoat on top with a hook and loop.

She reached up to hold the side of my face. Her gentle fingers dragged down my jaw, drawing me closer to her. We shared a kiss. I broke off with a sad smile, meeting her hand with my own and taking it off my face.

“I love you, dear. But I have to go.” I stood up from the bed and slipped my feet into two heeled shoes, then propping a foot up on my trunk of clothes. I fumbled with the buckle. Dorothea noticed my struggle and sat down on her knees, buckling my shoes for me.

“Thank you.” My gratitude came out in a more sheepish and grumbly way than I had intended, being embarrassed with my own incompetence. Once both of my shoes were buckled, I leant over and offered Dorothea a hand up. Which she took.

“Must you leave before breakfast, my beloved?” She asked in a whisper, rubbing her thumbs against the palm of my hand. I took a deep breath and nodded, then retracted my hand from her’s. I heaved up my trunk of clothes, not wanting to waste time by having others do it.

I told her to open the door, and she did. We both moved down the hall and descended the stairs, being bugged and pestered by our children. Once we made it to the front door, I bent don and brushed my lips against Dorothea’s cheek. A ghost of a kiss.

“Take care of the children.” I sucked in a breath, “If I’m not back by the time you have our next child, remember the names we chose.” I urged Dorothea, gripping onto the wooden trunk closely. I rue the day I miss another one of my children’s first breaths.

“Alexander for a boy, and Alexandria for a girl. Don’t worry, dear.” Dorothea opened the front door for me. I sent her a grateful glance, then looked back over my shoulder at the congregation of children. It was almost comical how many little Patricks and Patricias were around.

“I’ll be back before you know it!” I looked down at Sarah, my eight year-old. I wouldn’t say I have favourites, but she’s my favourite. I winked at her. “And you’re in charge.”

With Sarah’s beaming face being the last I see before I left home, I trekked forward. The carriage taking me up to Richmond was going to pull around my residence from the North-Eastern side.

So, I carried my belongings off and walked along the cobbled sidewalk of Pleasant Grove, setting myself down at the makeshift station point.

\---

In the distance, I saw a fair-sized carriage drawn by two horses emerge onto my property. Knowing this was for me, I stood up from my spot and attempted to be as presentable as possible.

Presentable for a gentleman without a proper coat. It was a foolish decision to not bring that status-driving article of clothing with me, but perhaps Dorothea packed me an extra one.

I don’t really need one, though, do I? I’m fairly sure that my name and face is going to be the most recognizable at the convention. This Virginia Ratifying Convention was mostly made in response to my opposition of James Madison’s centralized-government and Constitution.

Even if New Hampshire’s ratification solidified the institution of the document, James was not going to allow Virginia to be split on his greatest work. As his intimate friend, Thomas Jefferson, was off in Paris, he seemed to be trying to solidify his place next to him in this new government.

James Madison. Self-righteous and a total suck-up. James worked under me for a small period in 1784, when I was serving my second term as the governor of Virginia. He stayed complacent under me in position, hiding in the grass, just waiting for me to slip up.

Like right now. Where I’m opposing a popular opinion and causing a convention to be called. I tiredly rubbed the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a grand waste of my time, but it had to be done. Patrick Henry was not going to stand down for the first time in his career over something as frivolous as this.

The carriage stopped in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of a bright yellow coat from inside. The vessel for our travels was going to be eastbound for about seven hours, and yet it had a roof and closed doors. Already a hotbox.

Lovely.

“Mr. Henry of Prince Edward county, please lay your crate in the undercarriage.” The stagecoach directed me, and I complied. With a groan, I stowed my belongings. With a deep breath, I prepared for the worst of my enemies to be sitting in here with me.

There only seemed to be room for four persons. I dusted off my shoulders and reached up to open the door, yanking it and pulling my body up and into the carriage in one swift motion. I ducked in and was immediately greeted by three other delegates.

“Mr. Henry, it’s always a pleasure.” James Monroe of Spotsylvania greeted me warmly. I hadn’t much time to think of a place to sit, and I sadly couldn’t be next to him. As James Madison, the devil in his true form, was seated curiously next to him. Madison was the one with that obnoxious yellow coat, surprisingly.

Madison was not sparing me even a look. He seemed completely exhausted and out of his mind already. Being all the way from Orange County, he must’ve been in this carriage stuck with Monroe for at least nine hours.

“Sit down, Patrick.” A hand grabbed onto my waistcoat, untucking it. It then tugged me down and onto my seat. The mysterious hand was attached to the commanding voice, and the voice was attached to..

Edmund Pendleton.

“We’re on a first name basis now, Eddy?” I asked Edmund, who was wearing just about as much as Madison and Monroe. I seem to have severely underdressed. Not a problem, though, as I’ll be the only one here to arrive to Richmond without suffering heatstroke.

“No-- ugh.” Edmund reached over me and shut the door, boxing us four delegates in. He composed himself, hands on his lap. It was obvious the heat was getting to him, as it were Madison and Monroe.

“Please, Mr. Henry, try not to plague this ride with your obnoxiousness.” Edmund sighed closing his eyes tiredly and leaning his head back.

Hohoho. Obnoxious?

“But we might as well talk, we’re the only company for the next seven hours.” I rested my elbows on my knees and leant forward. Monroe had that same passive look on his face in front of me. I didn’t mind staring at him, it’s much better than Edmund’s position where he’s forced in front of that Madison.

Speaking of which,

“Sir,” Madison sighed, “I don’t want to talk to you unless it’s about the convention. I’m not invested in your personal life.” He practically spat the words at me, still not sparing the smallest of looks in my direction. I breathed out through my nose slowly.

“Then let’s talk politics.” And as I started the conversation, I heard the crack of the coachman’s whip on the arse of the horses. This propelled the carriage, and our travels had only just begun. With a groan, Edmund tilted his head back down, as to match me in eye level.

“I’d prefer it if you saved that for later. You have quite the talent of verbal seduction, and I would love to be spared from your influence.” Edmund’s eyes, opened now and as grey as ever, stared me down. It had been forever since I’ve seen this man, and it’s like he aged up considerably. I myself haven’t been doing too well in the looks department, but my LORD, Edmund. Get a grip.

“Why is that, Sir?” I asked curiously, wanting to prod further. There had to be a reason for such a discomforting and cold behaviour from an otherwise nice man. Madison’s eyes darted over toward Edmund and I, his irises dark and almost intimidating. Almost. Nothing scares me.

“He’s the presiding judge of the convention, Mr. Henry. Have you forgotten that?” Madison informed me, a bitterness seeping into his voice. It was obvious this man was overheated, overtired, and overtly hated me. His patronizing tone of voice would have hurt my feelings, if I cared.

I sat back in my seat, a hand over my mouth as I hummed into it. Monroe, across from me, seemed anxious in the way Madison was addressing me. Those two were supposed to be on the same page, but I knew Monroe secretly supported my cause of stalling the Constitution.

Next to me, my sympathies were not met so much. Edmund was the judge? And Edmund was close friends with Jefferson and Madison, and would have the seeds of federalism planted in his mind? It’s almost as if Madison planned this all himself, so he could get his failure of a paper passed without opposition.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Madison purposefully placed me in this carriage with him and Edmund. So they could intimidate me. It will not work, if that was their mindset. I brought my hand down from my face to my hair, running it through it slowly. I looked beside me, at Edmund.

“Tell me, sir.” I smiled cooly at Edmund, who was struggling to keep himself from looking agitated. He was well aware of the way I spoke, having to deal with me for upwards of thirty years. When first starting in law and politics, I had to do my bar exam in front of Edmund.

“You’re going to be the judge for a convention that is called in order to ratify James Madison’s Constitution? While we already have the Articles of Confederation governing us?” I asked, leaning into Edmund slowly. I purposefully tried to discomfort him, so he would pay attention to me. And pay attention he did.

As Madison tried to speak his rebuttal, Edmund raised a hund, shutting him up. He then nudged me off of him, grumbling. “This Constitution is not just James’, Mr. Henry. It was pulled together by delegates across the union over the span of six months.”

I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my thighs. Edmund stared down at me, confused. Madison appeared as if he were two seconds away from murdering me, and Monroe mirrored Edmund’s confusion.

“Why are you laughing?” Madison asked, arms crossed over his large coat. If this attitude were to last the whole convention, then I would be doomed to have to be constantly defensive. He was so spiky, it was apparent that Madison was in need of this victory. Usually, he wasn’t one that shy to humour.

“Because, out of all the delegates in this cart, you’re the only one who attended the Constitutional Convention.” I let the words drip from my lips loquaciously, as always. It was like a waterfall of distaste.  
“Isn’t that just so convenient?”

Madison was at a quick loss for words, biting back anything he was going to say. Edmund looked away from me, most likely as a sign of submission. That I was right. Across from me, Monroe smiled, now laughing with that knowledge.

“Weren’t you invited to the Constitutional Convention, Sir?” Monroe asked me. I nodded, a grin still present on my face. I hadn’t gone to that convention because of the New York delegate, Alexander Hamilton. To me, he stunk of a pro-monarch rat.

I also was not keen to have to possibly share a room with James Madison for six months. The thought alone makes me want to be hung on the spot. Monroe seemed to want me to explain myself, being the absolute dumbass he is.

“I was invited, but I decided that I’d be better off with the Missus. Instead of being stuck in a room with ugly, wig-wearing politicians.” I answered, licking my lip. Edmund looked back at me, disgusted. I knew Edmund wasn’t one to think about time with his lady, not having the most loving marriage out there.

Before I even knew Edmund, he had dealt with the loss of his first wife. The poor man fell into another marriage with an aristocratic woman named Sarah Pollard. Their marriage was warm on paper, but he never seemed too satisfied with it. Not that I care. I just feel sympathetic.

Monroe’s personal life was a complete mystery to me, and quite frankly, I did not want to hear it. I’m fairly sure he was newly wed, but that’s an assumption based entirely off of his young age compared to Edmund and I. Again, I really don’t care.

But Madison.

“I don’t want to hear about your personal life, as I said earlier. Especially not your wife.” Madison curiously kept eye contact with me, more bothered by this topic than I expected. I didn’t suspect Madison to be so sensitive, he left me wanting to press further. Deconstruct his life.

Madison was a bachelor, if I remember from the last time I’d been invited out with him. Years ago. The smaller man was never much of a flirt, nor did he try to court anyone. Always invested more with politics. Maybe he would be more fit surrounded by politicians constantly.

I almost feel bad for him. That he could live such a stressful, loveless existence. Unless he were hiding something, like a secret lover, similar to Aaron Burr and his complicated love life. I cleared my throat.

“Of course, of course.” I murmured, a faux subservience. I paused to make Madison feel like I’d backed off. Edmund noticed the intent behind my smile, and sent an icy glare my way. He hoped to stop my pursuit with his supposed superiority over me. TWICE governor of Virginia was not going to back down to JUDGE Pendleton.

“You’re probably dreadfully embarrassed because you’re a bachelor.” I delivered my finishing blow onto Madison, whose face immediately flushed bright red. I had to have been right.

With that small victory, I sat back again, content to sit in the tense silence for the rest of the carriage ride.

\---

Richmond, Virginia: June 1st, 1788

Unsurprisingly, no one dared incite me for the rest of the ride. Despite it being several hours of tense, highly-opposed politicians stuck in a stuffy box together, they were able to make it as safe as they could with conversation. Mostly Monroe and Edmund talking back and forth about their friends.

Mild gossiping aside, I learned through Monroe that Madison spent a few weeks living at Jefferson’s Monticello. Edmund told me the story of how he introduced the two, and Monroe backed up all his claims. Madison seemed keen to end the conversation at every instance.

The four of us filed out of the carriage, out onto the streets of Richmond. Well, right in front of the capitol building we’d be working at. Madison and Edmund walked ahead of Monroe and I, toward a bench in the shade of the building’s arches.

The aforementioned building was about four stories high, and it was safe to assume we’d be lodging on those higher floors. I leant against one of the pillars, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

“Even without a frock, you’re sweating like a dog.” Monroe jested at me, trying to raise my spirits with some idle blather. He humoured me sometimes, and I was fully aware of that. I quirked an eyebrow up at him, grinning.

“Nay, nay. I might smell like a dog, but alas, I do not act like one. Unlike you, sir.” I chortled obnoxiously, and so did Monroe. He clasped a hand on my shoulder, and I placed one on his head ruffling his greasy, dark hair.

“You see right through me, old man.” He laughed out, almost deliriously from the heat. Edmund and Madison were not as easily amused, as Madison stood up from his bench and briskly walked into the capitol building at the sound of our laughter.

Edmund lingered.

“Mr. Henry, Mr. Monroe, please.” Edmund sighed, crutching toward us. Monroe stood to Edmund’s attention, akin to a soldier. I stayed leisurely leant against the pillar. Edmund was not going to whip me into subservience, hell no.

“We have work to do. All the delegates will be here by tomorrow night, so we have all morning tomorrow to set up.” Edmund explained, sighing heavily. He seemed more focused on me than Monroe, knowing how dreadfully annoying I was.

“And?” I asked, continuing, “I’m going to be lodging at the Swan Hotel. Broad Street. You won’t hear anything.”  
I pried myself off the pillar and meandered over to my luggage, Monroe almost followed, but I waved him off. Monroe looked between Edmund and I, took some sort of mental note, then left.

“I’m not here to play games with you, Mr. Henry.” Edmund watched me unload a few trunks, claiming my own. I noticed his, and being the Good Samaritan I am, decided to carry it for him. Lord knows the man can’t carry anything with those inconvenient crutches.

“Neither am I, /judge/ Pendleton.” I mocked his serious tone, a trunk of clothes under each arm. Despite the kind gesture, Edmund still wasn’t amused. I stepped forward to enter the building, but he stopped me with a hand on my chest.

“I can carry my own luggage, sir.” Edmund tried to stop me. I quickly retorted in a puff.

“No, you cannot. Let me proceed in helping you, so I can go off to my own private room and think of all the ways I’m going to destroy your career.” I hissed at Edmund, losing patience and earning a stony stare from him. He begrudgingly led me inside, but without the hospitality I was accustomed to.

What else to expect? Pestering Edmund was just so damn fun.

I followed Edmund through the wooden interior of the building, partially entranced by how large it looked on the inside. There were a few halls expanding the first floor, but Edmund was set on going up the stairs and to the rooms. I already had both hands occupied, so Edmund had to assist himself up the stairs.

Or so I thought. As if he could telepathically hear Edmund’s calls, Madison emerged from one of the rooms and saw Edmund and I’s predicament. He scurried down the steps and took Edmund’s crutches, then letting Edmund rest the left side of his body on him.

“You can set my trunk down in here.” Edmund nodded for me to follow, as Madison and himself limped into the room together. And so I did, placing my own belongings down as well to give myself a break. Madison was not keen on seeing my stuff in here.

“You can leave, James. This is Edmund’s room, no need to glare at me ‘cuz I helped him out.” I smirked down at Madison, whose expression only grew more annoyed. He stepped aside, gesturing down to some bags- which I could only assume were brought into the room by the coachman while I was with Monroe.

“This is my room as well, sir. You’re the one who can leave.” Madison then sat down on the bed, leaving me to stare at him with a loss for words. Edmund stood beside me, and I felt him shift uncomfortably on his crutches.

Madison was rooming with Edmund? I assumed that everyone was taking their own rooms, as there weren’t going to be as many delegates. Or that Edmund might reside with George Wythe, or Mason, or anyone else! But not Madison!

I clenched my jaw and turned my head to face Edmund, who was looking away. I could feel Madison’s clinical gaze on me, making my sweat run cold and anxious. Without much thought, I grabbed onto Edmund and pulled him out into the hallway, slamming the door on Madison.

“Patrick! What are you thinking?!” Edmund yanked his shoulder back, I let go, but put my hands up in front of him. I wanted to keep him here. I was NOT going to let Madison push his federalist propaganda on Edmund!

Or let the little bastard be around him at all.

“Edmund! James is in there trying to plague your mind with his- his controlling, repressive government! His hospitality is faux, he’s manipulating you!” I ran my mouth off again, that being one of my great talents. Madison could most likely hear my from the other side of the door. Oh, well.

Edmund laughed, “And you’re not manipulating me, either? I can see right through you, Mr. Henry.” He scoffed and turned around, but I called out again.

“All he does is preach our ambassador’s plans! He hasn’t a thought of his own.” I stammered, grabbing onto Edmund’s wrist. “He’s not a friend of the union, Edmund.”

Edmund paused, looking down at my hand, then up into my eyes. Like he was trying to figure out what I wanted from him. He said he saw through my acts of kindness, but what is there to see? I want him on my side, not just because he’s the judge but-

Argh, never mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re a friend of the union, Patrick.” Edmund tittered, pulling his hand out of my grasp. He pushed some hair behind his ear, twirling a grey strand in thought. I held my breath, watching as Edmund figured out how to articulate his words.

“You used to be an ally, when you had something to fight against. When we had a clear enemy.” Edmund’s eyes darkened, as he shifted forward and placed a hand on my chest. His fingers prodded individually, gingerly. His collected nature was intimidating, to say the least. I attempted to suppress any signs of weakness, despite being so helpless.

“Now that our enemies are hidden amongst us; you’re scared. You wouldn’t admit that, but you are. You’re scared of James and Thomas, but they’re my friends.” Edmund’s hand grabbed onto the ruffles of my shirt, tugging on them to coax me down an inch or so. So we’d be at the same height level. It worked.

“Are you saying that I associate with those who uphold tyranny, Patrick?” Edmund interrogated. I swallowed my breath and attempted to compose myself, bringing a hand to meet his on my shirt. I took his hand off of me, then proceeded to clasp it between my two hands.

“Edmund, give me a chance. Damn me to death, if I steer you wrong.” I begged, staring directly in front of me. Edmund’s tired eyes began to lighten, sorting the pros and cons of my offering of friendship. He knew who I was, and I knew him. I knew his need- his thirst- for information, and he knew my need to secure personal freedoms and protect those who are close to me.

After some deliberation, Edmund closed his eyes. I could tell how much he didn’t want to accept my offer, but it wouldn’t be wise of him to decline. Can’t he see that all I want is the best for our nation? That this little, conniving, intervening James Madison has no place in the country I want to build?

“You better not be wrong. Let go of my hand, please, I’ll go speak with James.” Edmund opened his eyes and smiled at me. I straightened my back and returned the smile, stepping out of Edmund’s way and letting him into his room. It wasn’t long until Edmund had Madison out the door.

Madison grumpily shoved past me, muttering damnations toward me. I payed him no mind, nor did Edmund. Curiously enough, Edmund still had the door open. It was almost as if he wanted me to stay in his room with him.

That’s not too bad of an idea, actually.

“Aren’t you going to come in, Patrick? Your stuff is still in here.” Edmund reminded me. Oh. I entered the room again and closed the door behind myself, and Edmund seemed worried in my intent. He narrowed his eyes at me with suspicion, as I grabbed my trunk of clothes and started unpacking.

“Aren’t you staying at the Swan Hotel? To contemplated how you’ll ruin my career, or whatever?” Edmund quizzed, puzzled by my behaviour. My smile only grew amused, as I wrapped up with separating my breeches and blouses. I nonchalantly tucked some shirts away in a dresser.

“I felt like you would’ve been lonely without Little Jemmy around, so Big Hen’s here for you.” I remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. Edmund made a disgusted noise, then shrugging off his crutches and sitting on the bed. I looked over at him, as he hissed in pain from the pressure being placed on his hip.

Suddenly, I felt a weird compulsion to help him again. Despite knowing how suspicious Edmund was of my intentions, I joined him on the bed, shuffling across the comforter. He seemed confused, so I tapped his knee and made a lifting gesture with my hands.

“Hold your leg up on my lap, I’ll help you unbuckle your shoes.” I offered, compromising my masculinity by putting myself in such a maidenish position. I don’t know why I felt this way, maybe because he hasn’t had a proper partner to show him these small tokens of affection.

“Whatever you say.” Edmund looked away, swallowed, then used his hands to lift his leg up onto my lap. He seemed pretty afflicted in taking up my help, especially after the day’s events. I really ragged hard on his friends, showed him disrespect, and am now cleaning up my act. Damn my sympathetic heart!

My mind flashed back to Dorothea as I unbuckled his shoes, remembering how her delicate fingers had worked their magic this morning. I was now trying to mimic what she did, but backwards. It was somewhat embarrassing, but talking through it seemed to make it better.

“Don’t worry, Eddy, I won’t be buckling your shoes tomorrow on the debate floor. Left leg, please.” I took off his right shoe and tossed it on the floor, then unbuckled his left shoe once it was on my legs. I wasn’t able to give him proper eye contact, being too focused on the shoes.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that, but now that you mention it..” Edmund joked with a hum, amused. I flicked his shin with my finger, which made him laugh. That wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be. I shuffled out from under his leg and rolled over to my side of the bed, laid back.

Instead of going through the trouble of the buckles, I decided to force my leather shoes off by pressing the ball of my foot against my heel until they flew off. I unbuttoned my waistcoat and took it off, then proceeded to shed myself of my shirt.

Edmund didn’t dress down nearly as much as I did. He kept his waistcoat and shirt on, while I remained shirtless. Good for him, hope he has fun sweating all night.

I could tell by his expression that he was-- disturbed, to put it mildly. Possibly intrigued, too. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same. It was very odd to see Edmund laid down next to me like this, but his previous expression slowly melted into something much more lighthearted.

“/Must/ you dress down so much? Is there no shame in your heart?” Edmund asked, huffing out a laugh. His question was rhetorical, as he pinched out the flame that lit the room we were in. Most likely to indicate it was time for us to sleep.

I laughed, shoving Edmund further toward his side of the bed. Edmund and I continued to laugh, both of us clearly exasperated and too old for the gauntlet of challenges this convention was going to weigh on both of us.

The sounds of our laughter faded away, as we were left lying there. Thinking. Knowing. Expecting.

I was going to get him on my side.

In

One

Way

Or

Another...


End file.
